


Morning

by VermilionLady



Series: Ad Pacem [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy post-game AU, Honestly this is more rambly than anything l m a o, M/M, Obviously spoilers if you haven't finished, This is like... months after the game, Where nothing hurts and babies are cute together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9513719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermilionLady/pseuds/VermilionLady
Summary: The king stirs from the sensation of calloused fingertips brushing his bottom lip, grazing over the curves of his cheeks; today is going to be a relatively nicer day, Noctis thinks, because when he opens his eyes he sees Ignis has managed to open both of his, too, unseeing though they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sort of test oneshot of a fic (series?) I've been wanting to write, post game and Ignoct centric. Not beta'd at all so there're probably a ton of typos and mistakes, but... *vague noncommittal noise*

It isn't unusual for Noctis to be quiet during the mornings, but this silence is of a kind far more tense than Ignis has felt from him in years.

It feels like he's holding his breath, even though practically every day starts out like this, every day that Ignis doesn't wake at some obscenely early hour that is. The king stirs from the sensation of calloused fingertips brushing his bottom lip, grazing over the curves of his cheeks; today is going to be a relatively nicer day, Noctis thinks, because when he opens his eyes he sees Ignis has managed to open both of his, too, unseeing though they are. He knows that means the pain, most often in the form of migraines from too much light, is  _ manageable _ this morning. But even as he captures that hand in his own, lifts it to his lips to bestow one, two pecks to his scarred hands, mind and body won't let him relax enough to truly enjoy that calm moment.

"Mm... mornin'," Noctis manages, half-muffled by his pillow. Ignis smiles, slowly blinks – steadily is he adjusting to sleeping in later, though only because he stays up absurdly late at night – and the temptation's too great, Noctis simply can't resist the urge and leans forward to catch his lips in a kiss. Chaste, but lingering; the gentle breaths flowing from Ignis' mouth wash over his own face and in a way, it's lulling him back to sleep. "I could just lie here all day."

"That won't do," Ignis retorts coolly, but gently and fondly and his smile is soft, borderline hesitant. He's probably deciding there's no need to encourage any more bad habits... Noctis watches through bleary eyes as, gradually, the blind man rights himself, likely preparing to coax his king out of bed just as well. No longer does the count waltz around to each window, ripping the curtains open to harass Noctis out of bed. He doesn't have to, after everything the two of them have been through, everything that all of them have been through. No, getting to wake up, getting to spend time with Ignis and Gladio and Prompto, the rare occasions the four of them can find the time to sit around and be dumb friends again — hell, even if he were younger he'd appreciate the responsibility, the duty of his position, simply because he is here to  _ have _ those responsibilities. To call it a struggle would have put it lightly; the pain and horror of what Noctis went through as he fought and clawed his way back to the world of the living were trials he could never so much as breathe a word to Ignis about, mostly for fear of breaking the poor man where he stands.

_ "They will need leaders." _

_ They stare so expectantly up at him, hearts heavy but determined even now to serve their king — to the bitter end, it seems. His eyes wander over each of them, takes in the sight of his closest friends as they don their regalia; the Crownsguard attire, specially tailored to all of them so many years ago, suits them too well. His closest retainers... his friends. It feels wrong to dangle this shred of hope before them but... _

_ "I can't say for sure what'll happen to the people infected when I do what I came here to do." That unspoken question hangs in the air between them: will they survive to see the first dawn of ten years? "But if I can't take care of them myself... I can't think of three people more suited to the job," Noctis says, tone controlled and low, though inside he feels as if he's fracturing, splintering constantly into smaller and smaller fragments, becoming more unrecognizable as the words pour from his lips. His gaze moves over each of them in turn – it lingers there on Ignis, pained even still over that single but vital connection of the eyes they can never make again – before he can pull the rest from his throat. _

_ "Whether in this life or the next, I don't doubt for a moment that we'll all see each other again." His shoulders square, his chin lifts; he feels a stagger in his breath as he inhales but Prompto at least is considerably worse for wear, eyes red and welling with tears Noctis knows he'd rather not shed. The expression written across Gladio's features is one he's seen so many times, face hardened and stern but his eyes expressing what he truly feels, confident and fiery but soft, brimming with emotion. Noctis assumes the hand that Ignis lifts is to adjust his glasses, something he's always done when he feels put on the spot, when he feels compromised — but he can see clearly as day as he watches his adviser rub at his right eye, notices the tremor in his lip and the flutter in the rise and fall of his chest. _

"Noctis."

Snapped from his thoughts, the memory dissipates from his mind's eye and his eyes refocus on the face above him, noting the way Ignis' brows knit in his concern, that gentle tension in his face. He's gone quiet for too long and now Ignis is worried. The king sits himself up and leans in without a word, steals another kiss though this one not nearly as chaste as the first. Noctis is definitely awake now; they'll never get out of here if they don't show a little restraint so he keeps it light, though the fervor in his ministrations is enough to push Ignis to the brink of breathlessness by the time Noctis parts to speak again. He has a little trouble remembering what he was going to say when he sees that euphoric look on his adviser's face.

"You're quiet." Noctis feels Ignis' hand press flat against the small of his back. "And... tense."

"I'm always tense, Iggy," the king answers, knowing full well from the shift in expression that Ignis isn't buying it, but he continues. "I spend too long watching you while you sleep and it makes me a little tired come morning. Nothing very unusual."

Not completely untrue, admittedly. Ignis never stirs much, he just finds his comfortable position and stays… for the five or six hours of sleep he gets on average. Noctis awakes and the man is always in the same spot, usually facing him though on occasion he’s turned away just far enough for Noctis to press his face against Ignis’ spine, wrap his arms around Ignis from behind.

Ignis seems to relent, even though they both know better.

“C’mon. Time to get up,” Noctis sighs, and smiles as he hears some stifled complaint about being too young for aching bones and joints, reaching back across the bed to give his lover a supportive squeeze of the shoulder.


End file.
